


Santa Baby

by interestedbystander



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interestedbystander/pseuds/interestedbystander
Summary: It’s Bucky’s first real Christmas morning since The War and with a little help from you, he's gonna make it a memorable one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd post this here. Usually leave my Tumblr stuff on Tumblr, but this seemed to get a good reception and figured I'm share the smut! Enjoy and have a happy and safe Christmas and NY, see you in 2017 xxx

It was early, too early to be awake on Christmas morning, you realised with a groan. It was still dark out, the only light in the room the warm lights strung through the posts on the bedhead you’d left on overnight in spirit of the season. “Go back to sleep,” Bucky whispered as he slinked back into the soft sheets. You hadn’t realised he’d even disappeared. “I didn’t mean to wake you."

“Did you have bad dreams?” you yawned, body keening to alert as he pulled you into his right side and snuggled you back against his never-ending body heat, tangling his legs through yours. His flawless, smooth skin on yours felt divine. 

“No. Hungry. There were leftover cookies from last night so I polished them off,” he admitted sheepishly, kissing your temple. 

“I’ll have to get the recipe from Wanda in the hopes that I’ll get a share next time,” you mumbled, eyes closing again as a small laugh rumbled through his chest.

“I ain’t apologisin’ for my sweet tooth, dollface,” he murmured softly you as you sighed. “I’ll make it up to you at breakfast. I made some batter for waffles and cut up some strawberries for when we get up. If you’re really lucky, I’ll even encourage ice cream on the side.”

Your tummy inadvertently grumbled in want – it shouldn’t have. Last night’s Christmas Eve Ugly Sweater dinner party with the team, you’d all eaten well into excess. Roaming canapés of seafood bites (prawn, oysters, smoked salmon and the rest) with fine French champagne, glazed ham and roast turkey with every side imaginable with some of Stark’s specialty wines he was saving for the occasion and dessert consisting of traditional puddings and other goodies – it was well worth looking absolutely ridiculous for. The boys had broken out some very top shelf whiskey and port to end the night and in Bucky’s lap, you couldn’t resist helping him finish his tumblers full with each passing pour. 

“That sound okay for Christmas morning?” 

You hummed. “Sounds perfect,” you admitted, turning your face to kiss him, still cinnamon-y and sugary after his early morning snack. “Go back to sleep, it’s too early to be awake.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, relaxing as your fingertips snaked their way over the peaks and ridges of his torso, sliding between the contrasting cool of his metal fingers. “Speak in the morning, baby girl.”

* * *

You woke up some time later with a weary smile on your face as you felt Bucky’s hard body pressed behind you, his warm, calloused hand gripping your side, contrasting the chill of his cybernetic side as he left wet kisses between your shoulder blades and down your spine. You stretched languidly and moaned in contentment. If there was a better way to wake up than the current one, you’d yet to find it. Looking over your shoulder, you sighed deeply taking in Bucky caressing of your body, long dark hair draped over his handsome face.

“Okay back there?” you dared ask as his lips continued their mission. He looked up at you through his dark lashes, stony eyes dark as his hum vibrated against your skin.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, before dropping his gaze again and pulling you impossibly closer to him. You weren’t sure you could muster a reply. Not when every nerve ending in your body felt  _so damn good_. Forcing yourself to roll over, your palms took Bucky’s cheeks and pulled him up to you. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” you finally responded as he gave you a fond smile and he nudged your knees apart to make himself comfortable between them, lightly grinding his hips into yours, something soft and foreign teasing your inner thigh… and not remotely what you were expecting. You frowned mid-kiss. “Barnes,  _what_  is tickling me?” you pushed him back to arms’ length as he blushed and giggled.

“That is one part of your present,” he confessed as he watched you raise an eyebrow. “But you can unwrap it later. No rush.”

Now baffled, you forced him up to his knees as he childishly rolled his eyes. From the previous skin-to-skin contact, you were perfectly aware he was naked (he always slept naked, he loved your soft skin on his and always admitted he loved the thrill of never knowing the next time you’d have sex would be, repeatedly waking each other in the middle of the night to give the other as much pleasure as possible). You covered your mouth, unable to hide your giggle, spotting the little red satin bow tied proudly around his proud and awaiting cock. “Oh, Buck.”

“Merry Christmas, baby. Do you like it?” he teased. “I made it myself.”

You snorted and broke into a wide smile. “It’s just perfect, exactly what I wanted,” you clutched your heart, batting your eyes lashes as he smirked, happy he’d made you smile just like that for him. You wrapped your hand around his jaw and snatched him back to you. “Looks like the perfect fit too,” you added as he licked his lips, claiming your mouth again for himself. His body collapsed over yours, pushing your thighs wide to accomodate his large frame. His cybernetic arm wrapped around your waist and flesh hand teased your skin, the goose pimples following his skilled fingers. While his touch generally sent you into frenzy, this morning it was his mouth, those plump lips, that silken tongue. All together a gift from the Gods and what he was able to get your body to do with it…

Focusing on his kiss, you felt heady. His lips massaging yours slowly as his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip, tongue begging to play with yours as it traced your lips. You could never say no to him, a contented sigh escaping you as you sunk further into the pillows. His mouth suddenly left yours, leaving a single kiss on your chin and nudging your head to the side as he nuzzled your pulse, letting a placid suction develop. He felt your breath hitch and smiled against your sizzling skin. “I won’t leave a bruise,” he promised. “ _That is too obvious_ ,” he added cheekily as you massaged his strong shoulders. 

“I don’t want to wear a hideous turtleneck today,” you muttered as his cybernetic hand dug into your side in retaliation, his teeth wide as he bit down on your neck. “…like a vampire,” you mumbled him as you pulled at his hair, hoping to pry him away from the sensitive skin, he groaned a little in pleasure – he always did love hair his hair played with, softly or roughly, he wasn’t at all biased.

“Okay, okay,” he huffed, his tongue tracing your clavicle and working its way to your keenly awaiting nipple. Circling it, he clamped down and your hips shot off the bed in shock and pleasure. He laughed quietly at your reaction, his flesh hand coming up to join the party on your other breast, massaging and flicking your nipple. “This body,” he groaned, pleased to himself, kissing across your chest to swap positions.

“Jesus,” you sighed, fisting one hand into your pillow in pleasure or frustration, you weren’t entirely sure as your chest rose to meet his slick mouth. It wasn’t on rare occasion he was this thorough with your body, he adored making you beg for him before he would pummel you hard into the mattress. Or while your legs wound around his waist and he took you against the wall. Or from behind. Or watching you lose yourself on top of him - 

The light settling just right, the fade in and out of warm light almost in synch with the slow grind of his hips against yours as he moved his lips to join yours, again the tickle of the ribbon startling against the inside of your thighs. 

If this was what Christmas was from now on, Merry fucking Christmas to you. You would willingly celebrate with Bucky every damn day.

_His first real Christmas_ , as free man in love for the first time in 75 years. You personally couldn’t be more thrilled to be sharing the holidays with him, so happy to see that wide, arrogant grin and cocksure attitude (the exterior was just a fantastic bonus, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t what attracted you first. The way his eyes crinkled and sparkled as he tossed his head back and laughed boldly with Steve and Sam about something. He caught you gaping. He gave you a shy smile, knowing he’d been caught and that was it – you were simply a goner). 

Steve had said while Bucky wasn’t the same as the man he lost in 1944, he could be pretty damn close when you where in his arms. Disarmingly chivalrous and charming, he proudly admitted he was the jealous type and very protective of what he loved. You assumed it stemmed from a long time of not remembering what love felt like at all.

He was so hesitant when your first start spending time alone together. He stuck to his side of the couch on movie nights in the Tower (occasionally chaperoned by Steve if it was an old film he and Bucky may have watched together before The War when they could afford it) and you stuck to yours. 

Completely unsure of himself, you’d volunteered as a self-styled ‘culture coach’ for Bucky when not running around after Pepper as her full-time assistant (it kept you constantly travelling but now that Tony and Pepper had reunited, both had made conscious efforts to spend as much time in New York together as possible and that worked for you too). Music, TV, movies. More recently with his few years on the run in Europe, he was up to date with most current events (when he protested his disdain of Taylor Swift, you almost fell out of your chair). He was happy to stay in the Tower, but you’d one night poached him out of his safe zone to go to the movies to see  _Casablanca_  (his choice). He was wary, he hadn’t been out with a woman alone since The War. He got the biggest popcorn and soda, while you astounded him selecting an ice cream.

“You’ll be through the ice cream before the previews even start. I can see what’s about to happen - you just want to steal my popcorn,” he accused with a half-tease. He was right, but was polite enough to at least share. At some point, his knee knocked with yours. He blushed and apologised profusely. It was hardly scandalous but regardless of how he felt about you, it was a mortifying for him. He sat with his chin in his flesh hand and chewed his pinkie thoughtfully as his knee gently met yours again unconsciously. 

“When I was a kid, I would have made a beeline for the back row,” he whispered, not taking his eyes from the screen as Rick and Lisa kissed on screen (still one of the sexiest on-screen kisses you’d ever seen). 

“I’m sure there was always a queue of pretty girls who would happily join you there,” you couldn’t resist taunting as he shrugged modestly, not denying it. You were happy for your middle row seat. Up until this point, you’d never felt as nervous around him as you did then. 

The same night, you’d managed to coax Bucky into admitting what his moves where if he’s taken a girl to the movies since he’d brought it up earlier. He’d laughed and it was again the most glorious sound you’d ever heard – kind of squeaky and high-pitched, a little nerdy even. Completely unexpected). He was surprised you’d even be interested. When you admitted that of course you were, he led you by the hand (a huge feat in itself, personal space was one thing, touch and affection something completely different) to the couch in common room and gave you the entire Bucky Barnes experience. 

He admitted his knee-nudge in the cinema earlier that night was the first move, it wasn’t entirely intentional at the time but he did enjoy it and he’d pinned it on muscle memory. Second, the yawn and stretch before he’d wrapped his cybernetic arm around your shoulder. Lamely, just like the movies. You’d both laughed easily until his finger started circling your shoulder and knee rubbed against yours. His cybernetic hand lowered to your elbow, dragging you in closer so you were trapped lightly against him, forcing your head to rest against his broad chest. When you looked up astonished at his blatancy, he cockily shrugged, grey-blue eyes dancing with mirth. He’d realised maybe he still did, in fact, have  _it_.

“And now you’re looking at my mouth,” he shrugged simply as you nodded like an idiot. When he reached his thumb for your bottom lip, you had no idea what to do.

“And now I’m looking at your perfect mouth,” you agreed, though it was garbled and sounded ludicrous to your own ears as he lowered his face to yours and gave you the best kiss you’d had in a long time – you wondered if that was muscle memory too, knowing he wasn’t exactly spending his free time with any other ladies. Eventually both his arms were wrapped around you to pull you onto his lap and you couldn’t recall a time since that you didn’t enjoy his mouth on you.

“Buck?” you called quietly, focus back on him. “I want you.”

“You want your present now?” he offered, grinning up at you impishly as you nodded, eyes glazed with lust. “Sure you don’t wanna wait?”

“More than anything, I want my present,” you almost begged as you moved your hands to his waist, feeling the sinewy muscles under your hands, trying to direct his hips to yours. “Please?”

“You don’t gotta grovel, babydoll. See, aren’t you glad you weren’t on the Fatman’s naughty list?” he reasoned.

“Naughty list?!” you exclaimed, shocked. “I have been a very good girl this year, Bucky.”

He cocked his head to the side, hovering over you, hair falling around his handsome features again. “I can give you a handful of examples right now that suggests different,” he couldn’t resist, his cool hand sidling up your thigh, tickling your hip and resting on your ribcage, tracking the ridges, enjoying your squirming under his touch. “You’ve been a very good girl this year and I couldn’t ask for a better gift than to have you in my life.” 

You made a face, blanching as he laughed, expecting that exact reaction. “You old sap,” you couldn’t resist, reaching out to grasp his dogtags, giving them a rough tug and bringing his mouth to yours. “Can I unwrap my present now?”

He nodded a little eagerly as you rolled him to his back, watching him tuck his powerful arms behind his head as your crawled between his sprawled legs and reached up to kiss him. “I love you, Sergeant. Merry Christmas.”

He hummed with a dirty little smirk, his tongue poking our between his lips to moisten them. Like a moth to a flame, your mouth was on his again, hungry, wet and a little wild. “Merry Christmas, sweet cheeks.”

Moving your lips from his mouth, he gleefully watched your head descend as you nipped, licked and kissed as much scalding skin as possible. You revelled in the coil of his muscles under your touch and the little jolts of excitement that came with the sinking of your lips across his torso.

You massaged his thick thighs under your hands and your tongue swirled his belly button. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered, moving his flesh hand to smooth your hair from your eyes, he needed to see your face as you freed a hand and felt down from his Adonis belt to his twitching cock, your fingers wrapping around him tightly, giving a few warm up pumps. “Gonna spend some time down there, huh?” he carefully asked as you nodded, plucking the pre-come from his sensitive head and pressing it against your tongue as he fell back into the pillows. 

He gasped as you took him in to the back of your mouth, the quaking rise and fall of his chest a dead giveaway that he was having a hard time maintaining his breathing as you focused on the task at hand, pleased that your efforts could make once the world’s most feared assassin and terrorist a blithering mess, thanks solely to your mouth (with a little help from your tongue, teeth and hands). Not even the CIA would believe this could possibly be the same man as he writhed under your giving mouth. A string of Russian curses filled the room, as he forced himself onto his elbows, wanting to watch you but needing to stop. “Baby, baby, stop,  _please_?” he begged, pushing your hair back from your face. “Or this will be all over before your take that ribbon off.”

With a pop, you continued using your palm slowly around his length as you smiled a little giddy, taking the ribbon in your opposite hand and untying it gently, dragging it against his skin softly and discarding it off the side of the bed. “Where do you want me?”

“It’s your gift, you tell me,” he replied, trying to regulate his heartbeat. “Anythin’ you want, you got.”

You moved to straddle his torso, pushing him back against the mattress and easing yourself back onto him, grinning wildly at the way his face contorted in sheer pleasure as he took his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“So wet,” he breathed. 

“This is what I want,” you sighed as you held his waist, moving into a gentle rhythm, adjusting to him filling you as bottomed out a few times, finding that spot that near brought you to tears of bliss. 

He gripped your ass in his large calloused hands, raising his hips to join yours and fill you completely, eliciting bold moans from you as you continued to lift and sink on him, knowing he was hitting you in exactly the right spot.

“You feel so fucking good, Barnes,” you told him as he gave you just a little bit more with encouragement. He always responded so well to a some positive reinforcement. You took his flesh hand and fastened it to your breast as he willingly cupped it, rolling your nipple between his fingers, managing to sit up and move his mouth to it, getting even deeper in you if possible as the position changed. You chewed your lower lip and shook your head, sensory overload taking over as his cybernetic hand traced its way from your thigh and between your bodies, the cool metal sending shockwaves through you as the chill found your clit and rubbed circles just to the right pressure. “Fuck,” you managed, angling down on him more, your walls tensing as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.

And like that, he pulled his fingers away, not ready to let you let go just yet. “We got time,” he reminded you, his teeth sinking into your neck, sucking a vicious curve of teeth into your over-stimulated skin to match the one he’d left earlier (you would be wearing a turtleneck that day, for the record), leaving you whining and he continued to push up into you, your hips meeting him and sinking back down roughly. “All fuckin’ day.”

If he wasn’t going to use his fingers, you had to, feeling about ready to blow as you touched yourself, a show for his eyes only as his body stilled and yours maintained its fluid movements, your body hovering above his, walls tightening again as you dropped your forehead against his shoulder, breaking the tension that erupted in your belly.

Suddenly all you saw was white. 

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Bucky grunted as you crumbled around him. “God, you feel amazing. Keep a’ coming’, baby. You can do it,” he cooed to you, swiping your stilling fingers away and using his cybernetic ones instead, hoping to drag the gratification out for the both of you even just a millisecond longer as the plates in his arms eagerly whirred into action, vibrating against you with a trick you didn’t know existed. You’d have to have a chat about that development later. When you regained your coherency. When you were ready for Round 2. His cybernetic fingers would be Round 2.

“Shit, Buck,  _please_ ,” you pleaded of him as you reluctantly had to smack his hand away. You were a bag of bones, relying on his body to keep you steady but the pleasure turned to extreme oversensitivity quickly.  

“Okay, baby, okay. Hands and knees for me, huh?” he whispered, moving your body to exactly where he wanted it, getting to his knees behind you and wasting no time, grabbing your hips in his hands and pushing forcefully into you, still tight and wet from your orgasm moments earlier, just how you liked it. He gave you a wicked little slap across the ass, your moan almost loud enough to wake the dead as his thighs slammed into you, sharp hisses escaping as he reached around to drag you to your knees, wrapping an arm across your ribs to keep you flush against him, bodies drenched in sweat, his strong chest to your back as he lightly bit your earlobe. “I’m not far,” he promised, as you wrapped an arm around the back his neck, tangling your fingers through the wispy ends of his hair, attempting to keep with his rhythm. 

Of course he’d dare try again, the hand keeping you up dragging down your stomach to your clit and attempting to wreck you once again. Turned out, it wasn’t such a challenge as you whimpered, coming  _yet_  again, body trembling, blood surging through you and limbs turning to jelly, this time taking Bucky with you as he sped his thrusts up, crashing into you and craving your orgasm more for himself this time as he fucked you through it and drawing out his own, clawing at your skin as you panted together.

“Oh, my God,” you collapsed forward as he fell above you, rolling off to the side at the last moment, not wanting to crush you under his body weight.  “Bucky…” you managed, your hand resting where they fell against his pecs.

“Tell me you’re good, sweetheart,” he urged, a small smile playing on his lips. He was completely debauched, hair tangled, face and chest flushed, muscles rippling from adrenaline. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Baby, that is the one Christmas gift that keeps giving and giving,” you admitted as he chuckled a little, before being interrupted by an abrasive knock.

“I prefer comin’ and comin’,” he replied as the bedroom door was thumped from the outside. It sounded like it wanted to come off the hinges. You jumped, not expecting the noise that broke the revelry.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky mouthed to you. “Know his footfall better than my own,” he bit back a laugh as you covered his mouth with your hand.

“I’m glad you two have had such an fan-fucking-tastic morning but if you could fuckin’ keep it down? Some of us are tryin’ to sleep. Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Steve growled, agitated. 

“Sorry, Cap,” you called back sheepishly. You looked at Bucky, encouraging him to do the same thing. Bucky screwed his nose up and shook his head a little petulantly.

“Fuck off, Stevie,” was Bucky’s only reply as he shared a wicked grin, especially for you, finally laughing as he heard Steve walking away and slamming his bedroom door. “He’s just upset he’s waking up alone. Merry Christmas, baby,” his palm slid over your cheek, caressing it almost concerned you might break. “You let me know when you’re ready for the next part your next present, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Interested Bystander writes](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/interestedbystanderwrites) on Tumblr.  
> 


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